


Fifth Date Material

by LelithSugar



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dating, Domestic Fluff, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Kingsman Stocking Stuffers, M/M, Mild Peril, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Spy Stuff, Tinselwank 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:04:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelithSugar/pseuds/LelithSugar
Summary: Harry and Eggsy have been together a good six months before they ever get to go on a real date. Five times they remembered why they shouldn’t bother, and one time it went just the way it should.
Relationships: Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 25
Kudos: 167





	Fifth Date Material

**Author's Note:**

> For the inimitable Starrr (@kingsman_hell on Twitter) as a little festive thanks for the chats, the incredible artwork and all you do to keep our little corner of fandom alive. I'm honoured by your friendshop and hope you enjoy!  
> Big thanks also to @galahadsquared for the help with ideas for this one.

Fifth Date Material

They lay in bed of a Sunday morning, getting their breath back, naked legs still entwined as Harry goes to his glasses and Eggsy to his phone. This is a routine in itself, of sorts: these quiet few moments physically touching, re-orienting themselves with the world outside of this little bubble of comfort… grudgingly, at times, but there’s no obvious disasters this morning.

“You know, it must be coming up six months, we’ve been together?” Harry’s looking at the date, idly musing about the time elapsed and not really thinking much about the details.

“Depends what you count, I guess.” Eggsy settles back into the pillows and swings his leg off the side of the bed so that he can fuss JB’s ears with his toes. “When you knew. When I knew. The first time we-”

Harry kisses the word right out of his mouth.

“Well, I’d say first date ordinarily, but I mean, we did things together at work, and then…" Harry's face falls. "I mean I really should’ve...” There’s worry creasing his brow when he sits up, and Eggsy runs a comforting hand up his back.

“Nah, don’t get like that. It ain’t like we haven’t had enough other shit going on to worry about.” He shifts closer, naked body to Harry’s side and kisses his shoulder with a smile. “Ain’t like we haven’t been having a good time anyway…”

“Well, true. Eggsy, may I take you on a proper date?”

Eggsy chuckles at him. That’s so typically Harry, and he kind of loves it. “May you. ‘Course you may. Where we goin’?”

“I’ll sort all that, if you’d be so kind as to save me your Friday evening?” Harry sits to face him and Eggsy ducks his gaze,walks his fingers up Harry's thigh.

“Dunno. What if I’ve got plans for Netflix and chill with this really fit bloke I know?

“They can wait. I’m taking you out.”

5.

It’s not really a surprise that Harry suggests the opera for his first attempt to woo Eggsy properly. Eggsy suspects it’s an excuse to get all dolled up and can’t resist fishing his earring out just to set off his tuxedo. It’s only a zirconia, he’s had it longer than he’s been a Kingsman and hasn’t worn it in so long the hole’s closed up and he makes himself bleed poking it through. Still. Harry had a full on moment about the pants Eggsy’s wearing under his suit… gotta make sure he gets his jollies somewhere. Operas are  _ long _ .

Eggsy’s a step behind as they walk into the atrium, mostly because he was eyeing up Harry’s arse as they walked up the stairs, which means he’s also the one who sees a man on his way out collide with a lady in a slinky sapphire blue dress, who’s too busy talking to her friend to notice what’s an admittedly impressive bit of sleight of hand. 

Thinking quick, Eggsy pulls the thief’s own trick: bumps into him and claws the diamonds out from where the guy’s trying to stuff them in his jacket lining. 

“Didn’t see you there mate, sorry about that!” A second’s deliberate eye contact, a bright smile, and the thief chooses not to fight and draw attention to himself. Which doesn’t quite work, because as Eggsy brushes him down jewellery starts sprinkling out of his jacket and sleeves and he runs.

Harry’s on it, of course, dashing out after him as Eggsy goes to return the gems to their rightful owner.

“Excuse me, madam, I believe these are yours?”

“Oh my goodness! Oh you absolute darling, however did you-?” The lady in blue scoops her jewellery from his hands in wonder and presses a forcefull kiss to his cheek. “These are family heirlooms, I can’t believe they were almost gone! You’re a Saint. You must come and join us in our box.”

“Oh no, erm, my partner will be-“

“Oh of course! are you under cover police? How exciting!” She grabs for his hand and turns to a friend. “Cassandra? This dashing young gentleman just saved my life!”

“Well wait - what? - I uh-“ 

Somehow, Eggsy can’t manage to get a polite word out between effusive thanks and insistant flirting, and the next thing he knows he’s stuck in a balcony watching  _ La Boheme  _ with enthusiastic strangers until he manages in the interval to slip out to the bathroom, and then out of the tiny bathroom window and down several drainpipes and back in another window to find Harry in the Dress Circle bar. Lipstick marks on his jaw and ears tell the story of much polite dodging and his frantic eyes implore Harry to give the whole night up as a bad joke.

Harry thinks it’s all piss-funny of course, but he’s seen it before and doesn’t mind that Eggsy can’t exactly stay for the second half. An early night's more fun than the opera anyway if you ask him, and a damn sight less stressful.

4.

Eggsy does not choose Nando’s for the dinner part of dinner-and-a-movie specifically because it’s the most hilariously incongruous place to put Harry Hart on a Thursday evening. Honest. It’s just he’s training a lot and chicken’s a good fuel food for him, and there’s one at the multiplex with the cinema so they can go out of the centre of London for the night. Go for a little drive and on the way back go by some of the roads Eggsy knows for modded cars and a good time. Maybe get in a little race. Maybe get a McFlurry from the drive-through for dessert and stop for a snog and a cheeky handjob in a car park round the back of a Matalan.

Pretty much Eggsy’s idea of a perfect date, even now. Especially now.

They do not get as far as the Nando’s, let alone the car park. Eggsy’s all done up in his best Fred Perry, Harry’s dressed down and already showing signs of frazzling round the edges at the forbidden thrill of it all; the lure of the Eggsy he wasn’t allowed to love, wasn’t allowed to touch. 

And then the alert comes out that there’s a dirty bomb on a missile headed right for the centre of London and all the rest of the night’s plans rather go to shit.   


3.

They make it to the fourth course of their twelve course tasting menu before the wine list gets the better of Eggsy and he has to edge out to the bathroom. Harry looks remarkably dashing at their table as he makes his way back across the restaurant of their incredibly exclusive hotel: elegant fingers teasing at the stem of his wineglass, hair perfect, deepest midnight blue tuxedo pressed exquisitely to flatter his broad frame. It’s such a shame they’re not going to make it as far as their suite. 

“Did you say Merlin booked this for us?” Eggsy poses the question casually, but he doesn’t bother sitting back down. His right hand’s already sliding into his jacket for one of his guns.

“Yes, it was ever so kind of him.”

“Does that explain why I’ve just seen them running crates of guns into the freezer or is that just a coincidence?” 

2.

They get to thinking that less ambitious might be better: that a more casual date might have less chance of being terribly derailed. It doesn’t stop Harry fidgeting in the booth of their under-new-management local, now rebranded as a gastropub. Harry’s steak is very slightly overcooked, but that doesn’t really account for his distraction.

“You alright?”

“You’re absolutely beautiful.” Harry’s eyes are warm amber in the soft light and his fingers are hot against Eggsy’s on the table between their drinks. “I hope you don’t mind. The waiter’s attempts to work out if you’re my date or my son are increasingly tedious,” which explains the subtle display of affection “- and I’m fairly sure the man to your four o’clock is waiting to either break up with or propose to someone.”

“Chill out, Sherlock.” The hypervigilance is excusable, really, given the way their last few attempts at dates have worked out, but the man smiles nervously as he welcomes his date so Eggsy reckons the worst is that their cosy evening might be overshadowed, and nothing happens for the duration of dinner so they risk ordering drinks whilst they peruse the dessert menu.

The door bangs open and there’s a nervous murmur as a motley gang who look like they don't appreciate the rebrand barge their way in and everyone free to chooses to quickly make an exit, sensing trouble in the air. 

“What we got ‘ere then?” Naturally, they round on the two of them casually intimte at their table; at Eggsy specifically, who sighs into his glass as Harry stands up, abandoning his pint of Guinness to meet the newcomers face-to-face. “Looks like Smith Street’s had an menu upgrade n’all.”

“Come now, aren’t they teaching you anything these days?” Harry steps away from the booth and puts his hand on the door handle. “Manners-“

“Oh fuck here we go.”   


1.

Having spent a full hour on washing, shaving, brushing and primping, Eggsy is as prepared for his date with Harry as he possibly can be - and as excited about Harry’s reaction to his turn out as six months with the man have taught him to be. His hair’s gone right, his close shave flawless, his scent expensive and suit fitted like only excellently bespoke tailoring can be. He checks his breath a final time, winks at his reflection and trots down the stairs to spread his arms in the hallway.

“How do I look?”

The answer is a soft snore from the sofa.

Harry is not only not dressed but he’s curled exactly where Eggsy left him at five, with JB on his lap and Netflix asking if he’s still watching from the screen. His glasses are askew, his mouth slightly open, his tie loose around his undone collar where obviously didn’t get round to fully removing it before he gave in to exhaustion.

Eggsy could wake him, help him get dressed, and they might just about make their reservation. But then, Eggsy’s pushing through jet lag himself and the spot beside them both on the sofa looks so much more appealing than a vaguely pretentious restaurant, suddenly. 

With a kiss on the top of Harry’s head that doesn’t wake him, Eggsy slips away to change into tartan pyjama trousers and an old gym shirt. He rolls a thick heavy blanket and carries it down the stairs on his shoulder, settles in next to Harry with his legs curled up so he can put it around them both and snuggle into his side, fingers reaching out to play with JB’s ears. 

“Eggsy?” Harry sounds like he’s been in a four month coma more than a half hour nap, and it’s adorable somehow. “Shit, what’s the time? Aren’t we-?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Eggsy kisses him, gentle comfort more than heat for once. He really is tired, and they fit together so well like this, somehow. “I’m knackered too. If we’re hungry later we can order in or there’s spag bol in the freezer.” He rubs his face against Harry’s shoulder and wriggles into a new, even more comfortable position. 

Harry sighs. 

“If we sleep now we’re going to be wide awake at silly o’clock in the morning…”

“Uhuh.” Eggsy opens his eyes to meet Harry’s and lets them drag to his lips. “Maybe with enough energy to actually haul our arses upstairs, wear ourselves back out and go to bed… in any order you like.”

Harry murmurs happily, kisses Eggsy gently on the cheek and goes back to sleep.

+1.

Eggsy and Harry’s first date - seven months and a couple of weeks into their relationship - goes exactly to plan. They dress up, go for a deliciously fancy lunch, spend the afternoon attracting looks in an art gallery and then a walk along the south bank to a nice bar. A cab drops them to the doorstep at a thoroughly respectable time of the evening; Harry opens Eggsy's door for him and they walk up to the front door hand in hand.

The day’s been weighted with heavy, heavy flirting, some top tier eye-fucking, and then once they’re inside that kind of kissing that’s more dancing around kissing than a proper snog: soft, slow drags of lips, breathing into each other’s mouths in that way that makes excitement pour down Eggsy’s spine like hot oil. 

“Bed?” Harry rumbles against his lips at last, 

“I don’t know…” Eggsy deliberately bites his bottom lip and pulls at it, and Harry waits for him to continue. “Ain’t a gentleman supposed to wait for the third date?”

“Eggsy, it’s taken me six months and six weeks of actual trying to get us through one date successfully. Do you want to hold out for a third?” The press of their bodies now, the shared pound of their heartbeats is answer enough, but Harry's gentleman enough to listen for his answer, at least.

“If… the second is taking you to the kitchen to get a bottle out the fridge, and the third is taking you upstairs.”

“You know, I think this just might work out.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still out here creating content! Thank you for all the love on my last couple of works. Next one's a biggie and might take me a while so I'm gonna say if you're one of those new names I'm loving seeing on the feedback, now would be a great time to follow and subscribe! I'm also on: [twitter ](https://www.twitter.com/agentsnakebite) and [ tumblr ](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/randomactsofviolence).  
> Much love.


End file.
